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Ava Monroe Aug 2013
No one knows the horrible thoughts within my head,
I grow tired of faking normal.
I look into the mirror and hate who is staring back.

The daymares are worse than the nightmares because they come without warning.
It is hard to fake normal when the daymares come and tears stream and the shaking begins.
I run for a place to close a door and lock it.
Lock out the world and grab my hair and pull and pull so hard that I try to pull the scenes out of my head.

I see them over and over every day. I hear the sounds. I lose my breath when the triggers come.
I tell my doctor that I am tired of faking normal.
I ask for medicine that will make me feel numb.

He asks me, "When was the last time you were happy?"
I pause, I think. I don't  remember.
My family doesn't understand so I have to fake normal.
I tell him I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Do something.
He says. I want you to seek counseling.
NO. It doesn't work.
Please.
NO. Just give me something so I won't think anymore.

I know that this PTSD is winning. Faking normal is coming to an end.
My doctor looks at me for the first time with the saddest eyes and says, "I'm worried about you."
I think to myself, You should be.

— The End —